wilds. This was the only place for a few days ride that the wilds
did not claim, besides the road itself. As such everyone passing through this
area stopped here, be they warrior, prince, Outcast, or bandit. Because of that,
it was considered a neutral place. By unspoken law, there were no fights on
the premises for that reason. It was a law everyone followed or found out the
hard way that the next time they passed through there would be no room at the Inn.
The Innkeeper was one-half
of an old married couple that ran the place as long as anyone could remember.
This was a place to find a clean bed, a bath, and a meal that was not full of
road dust or dried to a jerky and stored in a pack for days on end. They also
had the best tasting water that could be found anywhere, as it flowed from
natural spring that was said to have healing properties. A rumor helped along
by the fact that the innkeeper and his wife were older than dirt and still spry
as people half their age.
He was about to suggest
they make their way inside when something in the air around him went static.
He already had his sword pommel in his hand when he looked down to find
Katrine's full and blank faced attention on a group of Outcasts across the
small clearing standing with a temporary corral. Four of the five men were
looking at Katrine as if they had seen a ghost; the fifth man had an altogether
different look in his eyes. It was a look he would not like to see directed at
any female, let alone one under his protection.
"Who is that?"
Katrine sucked in an
audible breath and raised her chin, turning her back on the men, she faced Khalon
and met his eyes with a shuttered peaceful expression that was colder than
anything he had seen from the girl before. "Who is who?”
Khalon narrowed his eyes
at her answer, but did not look away from the clear threat across the
clearing. "Who is the Outcast who looks at you like you belong to him,
and he would as happily bed you as beat you?"
"Oh him," she
shrugged. "That would be Renault, son of Deni of the Outcast clan Wind Chaser."
Khalon spared her a brief
glance at her simple emotionless recital, and when he looked back at the man
his eyes had turned to Khalon. The look he gave Khalon was both a threat and a
promise. "Son of Deni?" He asked incredulous. "He was your husband’s
son?" He knew from the man’s age he could not be hers, but he did not
look at Katrine in the way of family, even by marriage.
"Which is the only
thing that kept me safe from Renault," Katrine said softly. She did not
look behind her.
He felt Katrine shiver,
though if he had not been touching her he might have missed it. Khalon did not
miss it or the fear and anger that came right behind it.
"How long has he
watched you with that look on his face?" he wondered aloud. Then
something else occurred to him. "You did not just leave the Outcasts when
your husband died. You ran."
"As fast as I
could," she said, her chin lifting again, eyes lighting with defiance and
anger as they met his. "I will be no man’s play thing. Least of all that
monsters."
Khalon looked back over
at the Outcast that coveted her. He stepped even closer to Katrine, until her
body was just brushing his. Then he pulled her around until she stood at his
back, and he stood between her and the man who eyed her as if she was property
and something to eat a hard bloody bite at a time. Ragnar came up beside him,
effectively sandwiching the girl between them and Thrax, who was looking less
peaceful every moment they stood there. The man, Renault, recognized the
message he was sending, as did the men with him, who were looking less angry
and more worried by the moment.
Khalon took hold of
Katrine's hand, pulled it under his arm, and around his body enough that he
could kiss the tips of her fingers. It pushed the softness of her breasts
against his back, which felt unbelievably good. The shoving of her other
did not claim, besides the road itself. As such everyone passing through this
area stopped here, be they warrior, prince, Outcast, or bandit. Because of that,
it was considered a neutral place. By unspoken law, there were no fights on
the premises for that reason. It was a law everyone followed or found out the
hard way that the next time they passed through there would be no room at the Inn.
The Innkeeper was one-half
of an old married couple that ran the place as long as anyone could remember.
This was a place to find a clean bed, a bath, and a meal that was not full of
road dust or dried to a jerky and stored in a pack for days on end. They also
had the best tasting water that could be found anywhere, as it flowed from
natural spring that was said to have healing properties. A rumor helped along
by the fact that the innkeeper and his wife were older than dirt and still spry
as people half their age.
He was about to suggest
they make their way inside when something in the air around him went static.
He already had his sword pommel in his hand when he looked down to find
Katrine's full and blank faced attention on a group of Outcasts across the
small clearing standing with a temporary corral. Four of the five men were
looking at Katrine as if they had seen a ghost; the fifth man had an altogether
different look in his eyes. It was a look he would not like to see directed at
any female, let alone one under his protection.
"Who is that?"
Katrine sucked in an
audible breath and raised her chin, turning her back on the men, she faced Khalon
and met his eyes with a shuttered peaceful expression that was colder than
anything he had seen from the girl before. "Who is who?”
Khalon narrowed his eyes
at her answer, but did not look away from the clear threat across the
clearing. "Who is the Outcast who looks at you like you belong to him,
and he would as happily bed you as beat you?"
"Oh him," she
shrugged. "That would be Renault, son of Deni of the Outcast clan Wind Chaser."
Khalon spared her a brief
glance at her simple emotionless recital, and when he looked back at the man
his eyes had turned to Khalon. The look he gave Khalon was both a threat and a
promise. "Son of Deni?" He asked incredulous. "He was your husband’s
son?" He knew from the man’s age he could not be hers, but he did not
look at Katrine in the way of family, even by marriage.
"Which is the only
thing that kept me safe from Renault," Katrine said softly. She did not
look behind her.
He felt Katrine shiver,
though if he had not been touching her he might have missed it. Khalon did not
miss it or the fear and anger that came right behind it.
"How long has he
watched you with that look on his face?" he wondered aloud. Then
something else occurred to him. "You did not just leave the Outcasts when
your husband died. You ran."
"As fast as I
could," she said, her chin lifting again, eyes lighting with defiance and
anger as they met his. "I will be no man’s play thing. Least of all that
monsters."
Khalon looked back over
at the Outcast that coveted her. He stepped even closer to Katrine, until her
body was just brushing his. Then he pulled her around until she stood at his
back, and he stood between her and the man who eyed her as if she was property
and something to eat a hard bloody bite at a time. Ragnar came up beside him,
effectively sandwiching the girl between them and Thrax, who was looking less
peaceful every moment they stood there. The man, Renault, recognized the
message he was sending, as did the men with him, who were looking less angry
and more worried by the moment.
Khalon took hold of
Katrine's hand, pulled it under his arm, and around his body enough that he
could kiss the tips of her fingers. It pushed the softness of her breasts
against his back, which felt unbelievably good. The shoving of her other
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